


His heart is on a plane

by floatingaway4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Henry is a gay English major, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4
Summary: The title is the summary, really. They're at an airstrip again.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 172





	His heart is on a plane

**Author's Note:**

> For all the amazing big dramatic scenes in this book, there is this one little line that absolutely DEVASTATES me: when Alex is out with Nora on their fake date and he’s thinking how easy his life would be if they loved each other…
> 
> _But she doesn’t, and he can’t...and his heart is on a plane over the Atlantic right now…_
> 
> The amazing guy who reads the audiobook puts in the perfect pause after “doesn’t” and the perfect spin on the word "can't" ...UGGGGHHH I loveitsomuch
> 
> Gets me Every. Fucking. Time. I’m tearing up right now thinking about it.
> 
> This...is not that scene, but it was inspired by the line.

“I wish I could come with you,” Alex says in such a small voice that Henry almost doesn’t hear him. 

Henry looks down and shuffles his feet, staring at dress shoes that don't feel as familiar as they used to. He bites his lip. “I wish you could, too.” They’d tried to work it out but Alex just couldn’t miss that much class. 

Shaan calls from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the plane, his voice almost inaudible over the engine noise. “Sir, we need to go.” 

Henry looks over his shoulder and nods. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, loosely covered by the tails of his untucked white dress shirt. His jacket is hung up on the plane already, he won’t put it on until he lands. 

Alex is leaning back with his arms folded, one foot braced against the sleek black car, his body curved against the closed door. He’s looking everywhere but at Henry. Anyone else might think he’s just standing there waiting, casual, maybe even bored. But even with dark glasses on, Henry knows that twist of Alex’s mouth. 

“Oh, love,” he says, so quietly that Alex lip reads it more than he hears it. Henry reaches up to take Alex’s glasses off, uncovering the tears he knew were there. “I know, darling,” Henry tells him. They should’ve had this discussion in the car. Little endearments don’t sound as sweet when you practically have to yell. 

Alex takes his glasses from Henry’s hand and props them on his own head. “It’s weird, I know I can touch you in public now,” he meets Henry’s eyes, “but I just...I’m afraid if I do, I won’t stop.” 

“You’re coming in three weeks and.... we’ll manage, right?” Henry asks, uncertainty rattling his voice. “We’ve done it before.”

Alex nods, sniffing like he can reabsorb his tears. “Yeah, I just--why is this so much harder now?” He stands up straight. “I see you every fucking day.” 

Henry nods as his own mouth twists sideways. He strokes Alex’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Maybe that’s why.” He drops his hand to Alex’s chest, his thumb finding the ring under Alex’s shirt. “Because it feels like a step backward.” 

Alex nods, crossing his arms protectively over his heart. “I really hate the idea of you sleeping alone in that fucking palace again.” 

“Are you saying I should find someone to share my bed?” Henry grins at him, trying to lighten the mood a bit. 

It works, a little, because Alex smiles at him and there’s a hint of light in his eyes. He reaches out to rub the tips of his fingers against the fabric of Henry’s shirt. “If I find out anybody but Mr. Wobbles has been in that bed, they’re going to have to arrest me for ...what’s that French thing?” 

“Lèse majesté?” Henry asks. 

“Sure,” Alex shrugs. He knew the words, he just wanted to hear Henry speak French. 

Henry runs his hands through Alex’s hair. “I don’t think we’ll have to charge you with treason, dear, at the very least because you’re American. Also because I’d never cheat on you,” he says, huffing out a laugh at the thought. He drops his hands to rest on Alex’s shoulders and rubs his thumbs in slow circles. “And to be precise, I’ll be in a string of third world countries for almost two weeks, sleeping alone, and _then_ I’ll be in the palace for a week, sleeping alone...or possibly with my sister’s cat,” he grins. 

Alex nods and looks away again. 

Henry slides his hands down Alex’s arms and twines their fingers together. “And then you’ll be there.” Alex has a fall break in three weeks and has plans to immediately fly over to stay with Henry for a few days, and then they’re flying home together. 

“It’s not so bad anymore, you know,” Henry reassures him. “Now that it’s not really my home. Now that I have somewhere to come home to, _someone_ to come home to.” He lets go with one hand and pushes a curl behind Alex’s ear. 

“New York is home, now, huh?” Alex asks proudly. 

“No, Alex,” Henry smiles and shakes his head, “you are.” 

Shaan’s voice floats over to them from a respectful distance. “Sir, we really have to go if we’re going to stay on schedule.” 

Alex shakes his head, trying to snap out of his funk, as though he can shake off his feelings that way. He looks up at the plane as a shaft of early morning sun sparks off the metal and realizes he’s just postponing the inevitable. 

His hands float up Henry’s sides, then wind around to his back. “C’mere.” 

Henry wraps himself around Alex. He rests his lips near Alex’s ear, so Alex can hear and feel him say, “I love you, you know that, right?” 

Alex buries his face in the crook of Henry’s neck, strong arms grounding him. “Yeah, of course I know,” Alex says. “I love you more than…” _everything_ seems too cheesy, but it’s how he wants to finish that sentence.

Henry straightens up but doesn’t let go. Not yet. He cups Alex’s face in his hand and wipes away a stray tear. “My love.” He presses a warm kiss to Alex’s forehead, then moves down to his lips. 

Alex rests his hands on Henry’s hips, his fingers rubbing up and down the silky fabric of Henry’s slacks. “Go,” he says, his voice rough and raspy. He leans closer to Henry’s face. “Go, before I don’t let you leave.” 

Henry takes Alex’s hand from one hip and lifts it to his lips. “I’m going.” 

Alex nods. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to talk to you when you land. Hell, I’ll probably talk to you while you’re on the plane.” He sniffs. “Go,” he says with a tiny smile. 

Henry lowers Alex’s hand from his lips but continues to hold it. He backs away from Alex slowly, until he is forced to let go. 

With one last glance, Henry shoves his hands back in his pockets and finally turns to jog up the steps. He stops at the top and looks back at Alex, mouths _I love you_ before ducking inside, so fast Alex can’t reply. Shaan is waiting for him just inside the door and gestures at the ground crew to move the steps. He waves at Alex, even though there’s probably some royal protocol against it, but Alex figures they basically fucked royal protocol over a year ago. He throws Shaan a silly two fingered salute. “Take care of him,” he wants to say. But he knows Shaan will, always has, since way before Alex was part of things. 

Someone on the flight crew reaches out to slam the door closed and the steps are finally moved away. A moment later, the engines roar and thrum in a way that travels through the ground and vibrates up Alex’s body. He puts his glasses back on, to protect his eyes from the wind, he tells himself. 

He can see Henry’s silhouette against one of the windows and raises his hand to wave. Henry rests his palm against the window. Alex watches until the plane taxies down the runway and takes off, then he steps back into the car. His eyes are burning. He has a sudden irrational hatred for England and the Queen (that one might not be irrational) and for airplanes and for anything that takes Henry away from him. He even hates Henry’s charities, and his desire to be directly involved with anything that has his name on it. 

He remembers Henry joking in an email about hiding himself away in Alex’s bedroom for the rest of his life. Right now, that doesn’t seem like such a bad plan. 

He looks down and wonders what’s wrong with his phone before he remembers he’s still wearing his sunglasses. He pushes them on top of his head and texts 

**_I love you too sweetheart_ **

**_and that was cheating_ **

  
  


**_next time you’re coming with me_ **

**_I brought something to look at when I miss you_ **

And Alex gets a picture.

It’s a picture of their bedroom Henry must’ve taken that morning, because Alex is still asleep and naked and sprawled across the bed. He knows he was naked, but the sheets are conveniently placed in a way that makes Alex think Henry moved them before he took the picture. They did learn _something_ from being hacked. Henry slapped a black and white filter over it, making it look artistic and not like softcore porn. 

Henry had woken him up at 4 am with a blow job and Alex’s body was awake and responding before his brain was. Then he’d fucked Henry, realizing it would be weeks before he’d touch him again and he hadn’t wanted to fall asleep after, but he did. When he woke up again, Henry was getting out of the shower and they had to leave. And Alex didn’t think it would be this big of a deal, thought he was ready for this, until they got to the airstrip and he had to stand here while Henry got on the damn plane without him. 

**_Fuck, I already miss you_ **

**_Three weeks_ **

**_Yeah_ **

Alex shakes his head. It’s not forever. And it’s not like they won’t be in touch the whole time, but he thinks Henry was right. It’s harder because they’re together now and he knows what it’s like to have Henry with him every day. Every night. His phone lights up again. 

**_i carry your heart with me_ **

Alex smiles. He has this one memorized, because it’s framed and hanging over their bed, and also because he lives with a poet who just says this shit in daily conversation. 

**_i carry it in my heart_ **

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the end is from an e.e. cummings poem. I had Henry buy a framed copy of it and put it over their bed in another story I wrote (Playing House)


End file.
